Harry felt like he'd been making notes for hours. He sat back, blinking away the strain, moving his neck from side to side. Then his eyes focused again and there was Ron.
Ron was bent over his parchment, quill grasped tightly between his fingers. It always made his writing small and crabbed. His hair fell untidily over his forehead and Harry knew Ron would push it back soon with one rough hand. Lamplight flickered against his cheek. Harry tried to catch his eye.
Ron raised his head. And looked over at Hermione. And smiled.
Harry looked down at his book.